


in my heart i belong in a house by the sea

by ConvenientAlias



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Presumed Dead, Reunions, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 15:04:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConvenientAlias/pseuds/ConvenientAlias
Summary: "She went to Sweden to forget but also because Raoul had told her to. They had made plans to escape to Sweden—there they could get away from Erik and from the judgmental de Chagny family in one go, and Raoul had been very excited. He had said she didn’t need to marry him; he just wanted to get her somewhere safe. She went to Sweden because she felt he would have wanted her to, even if he wasn’t around or alive to join."Christine runs away to Sweden. Four months later, Raoul de Chagny shows up on her doorstep.





	in my heart i belong in a house by the sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [generalsleepy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalsleepy/gifts).



Christine went to Sweden to forget. Paris was too full of memories now. The opera house was a place of death where even the walls had eyes and ears. Mamma Valerius’ house was where she had first heard the angel, and thus it was corrupted too. Even her own father’s grave was haunted by Erik now, and she couldn’t even bring herself to visit it before leaving.

There was, too, the fact that Paris was currently abuzz with talk about Raoul’s disappearance, and she couldn’t escape the questions. He had gone into the tunnels after her, after all, and no matter how much she denied seeing him down there no one quite believed her. _She’s responsible_ , their eyes said. Sometimes they said it out loud, too. And she denied it. Again and again she denied it. Raoul would have said it was the truth; Erik had been the one to cath him, and Raoul had been the one to tell her to leave. Technically she had done nothing. He would have said she had nothing to be ashamed of. So when the press or the policemen talked at her she imagined that he was there beside her, and let his imagined voice drown out the hostile buzz.

She went to Sweden to forget but also because he had told her to. They had made plans to escape to Sweden—there they could get away from Erik and from the judgmental de Chagny family in one go, and Raoul had been very excited. He had said she didn’t need to marry him; he just wanted to get her somewhere safe. She went to Sweden because she felt he would have wanted her to, even if he wasn’t around or alive to join.

The Daae family had a small house there by the seaside, although it was not well kept up and had begun to fall into ruin. It was a little out of the way, a bit of a walk out of town. She was fine with that—for now, she wanted to be alone. She worked on fixing up the house. She wondered what kind of work she could find here; she didn’t have enough money saved up to keep herself afloat for longer than a year or two, even after working as a prima donna with several generous patrons. She thought she might just spend all the money and then worry about it. It wasn’t wise but she didn’t care.

She lived in Sweden for four months like this, shuffling around, sometimes trying to make friends in town, sometimes trying to avoid humanity. And then Raoul de Chagny showed up at her front door.

He knocked. He knocked for a while before she actually answered; she was in the kitchen and she didn’t hear him right away. When she opened the door and saw him there she did not think he was a ghost, because he looked nothing like the man she had left in Paris all those months ago. He was thinner, a little paler, more worn. There were circles under his eyes. His nose looked like it was shaped a bit differently and there was a long scar running a diagonal across his face—not a clean line either, but rough and wobbly and still kind of red. His hair was cut short, too, and he was wearing the clothes of a sailor, not of a rich opera patron.

“Hello,” he said.

She stared at him.

“Christine?” he said. “It’s me. It’s…” He laughed, and he sounded almost as carelessly happy as the day they had first reunited at the Opera Populaire. “…the boy who ran into the sea after your red scarf.”

“Raoul?”

The smile on his face faded. “Well, I’m sorry to show up out of the blue, but…” He stuck his hands into his pockets.

She stepped aside to let him in. The parlor was clean and presentable by now, at least, even if some other places in the house were still a mess. Foolish to worry about the details at a time like this, but she couldn’t help it. She sat down on the couch and waited for him to join, but he sat down in a chair across the room.

“I really am sorry,” he said. “I’ll leave. I’ll leave tomorrow. Or tonight, if you want. But I had to make sure you were all right.”

“No.”

“You’re not?”

“No. No! I mean, don’t leave. That’s fine.” Christine stood, nervously. “You’re alive.”

He shrugged, laughed slightly. “Well, yes.”

“That’s good. I thought you were dead.”

“No, I guess I’m not. So that means we’re both alive. And we’re both fine.” Raoul shrugged. He stood up, mirroring Christine. “I guess that means we won.”

She nodded because she couldn’t bring herself to disagree with him. Won. No one won in a game with Erik—there was no point in winning against someone so pitiful, and she was too broken to consider herself a winner, and Raoul looked if not dead then barely alive—and anyhow life and death weren’t the subjects of games, though maybe he was thinking of more of a victory in battle, which would make more sense. Erik would consider it a game though. Erik.

An inquiry almost escaped her lips, but she bit it back. No. She would not ask Raoul if Erik was still alive, if he was well. That, at least, she would not do.

In the end she couldn’t ask him about what had happened to him either. He gave her the basics as she finished with dinner: Erik had decided not to kill him. He’d kept him around for a while. The Daroga had helped Raoul get away in the end—Raoul was quite worried about the Daroga, because Erik “can be very vindictive, sometimes”, which was the only reference he made to Erik’s violence at all—and he’d immediately fled Paris. After recovering for a while (he wouldn’t specify from what, and again she didn’t ask), he’d decided to come to Sweden. He hoped he wasn’t overstepping his bounds.

“I know you don’t need me here. But I needed to see that you were safe.”

“Oh, Raoul.” She looked at him, and suddenly saw an insecure boy she used to play with at Perros-Guirec. “Of course I need you.”

His eyes were wide as she kissed him, gently, on his scarred cheek. He didn’t kiss her in return, but he patted her arm, and she realized he had not touched her until now. They hadn’t hugged when he came through the door. She quivered. She wanted to hold him but as she reached out he stepped away.

She didn’t question him any more over dinner. Instead she told him about how she had set things up in Sweden. Inane details of housecleaning and arranging her affairs, what ship she had taken to get here (it was a cheaper one than his, he noted), who she had met so far in town, what she had planted in the garden. He soaked in her words. He also ate everything on his plate, which was a relief; he didn’t look all that healthy but at least his appetite was fine.

She told him he could stay in the guest bedroom for the night. “The linens aren’t clean, but we do have a spare bed. I didn’t think you’d be coming. You might have to find somewhere to stay in town until we can get things arranged.”

“Things?”

She touched her ring finger. She had lost the ring. Erik took it on her way out because he said she was breaking her engagement by leaving them. “Never mind. But you will be staying in town, at least?”

“I…yes, I suppose. There’s no reason for me to return to Paris. Are there—I suppose there are inns.”

He had brought his hands together, and he wasn’t quite wringing them but he didn’t look very comfortable either.

Christine said, “If you stay here in the guest room, people will talk.”

“Yes. Well, I wouldn’t want…”

“You can stay. It’s fine.” She felt cruel, seeing the look on his face. “No one in town has to know. And it doesn’t matter what people think, anyhow. I don’t care about that.”

“I don’t want people to talk about you.”

“I don’t care.”

So that settled that, for the time being. She put fresh linens on the bed in the guest room. It would have to be the next room she fixed up. Raoul might be able to help her. Since apparently he was going to be around. Since apparently he was alive.

Raoul was alive.

He moved his things into an old bureau in the room. The drawers were full of dust, and she cleaned them out with a wet rag while he unpacked. He had brought a set of pajamas with him and he blushed when he unpacked those. She shook her head. He’d seen her in worse on a stage in front of hundreds of people, but he could be very sensitive sometimes.

She wished him a good night.

But her room was right next door to his, and she couldn’t fall asleep. Too restless. And she heard sounds coming out of his room, too, little noises. She knew she ought to let him have his privacy. She went in anyway, though she stepped as softly as she could.

It was dark, but he’d left the lamp on by his bedside. In that light she could see sweat on his forehead even though the night was cold. He was shifting in bed and muttering something. Probably a nightmare. She shook him by the shoulder, and his eyes popped open. His whole body froze, and for a long moment he just stared at her.

“Raoul, it’s me.”

Stare. Stare. Stare.

“It’s me, Raoul,” she said. She reached to touch him again, and he jerked away. “It’s just Christine. It’s fine. You had a nightmare.”

He swallowed and sat up, but didn’t say anything. He was still staring.

“You’re scaring me, Raoul,” she said. She tried to be light about it, but he was.

He moved to the edge of the bed and pulled her down, gave her a tight hug. He was trembling. “Don’t be scared, Christine,” he said.

She put her arms around his back and tried to steady him. He was already squeezing her so tightly she could barely breathe.

“You don’t need to be scared,” he said. “You’re safe now. Erik can’t get you. He’s all the way back in Paris. You’re safe.”

“Yes,” she said. “I’m safe.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “You protected me. We’re both safe.”

“We’re safe now,” he repeated.

He wouldn’t let go for a long while.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the prompt of "Raoul, 'you're safe now'." Feel like this fic may have focused a bit more on Christine considering that but my R/C feels are alive tonight.  
> Also my Raoul whump feels. Those are also alive.  
> Title is from "House by the Sea" by Moddi, which is a good vibe for this fic. a good song.  
> Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to comment or come talk to me on tumblr at convenientalias.


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